


Plans

by Veniae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Romance, Some Fluff, but when do things go as planned anyway, obi-wan is On A Mission, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veniae/pseuds/Veniae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Clone Wars are in full swing, but there's more on Obi-Wan's mind than military tactics. Chancellor Palpatine has an assignment for him. Plans go awry at an alarming rate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> i just want these nerds to be safe and happy okay
> 
> Shoutout to [imaginarykat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarykat) for beta reading this and saving me a lot of embarrassment. Also, if you haven't read her fics, you're missing out on so. much. Seriously, do yourself a favour and go check her stuff out.

Obi-Wan was surrounded by red. Fire licked at his skin, heavy, suffocating air pressed at him from all sides. His insides burned. His right arm throbbed with exhaustion, lightsaber buzzing its bloodthirsty hymn. He swung and the blade connected. There was an anguished scream, _he_ was screaming…

Images flashed before him: a face framed by blond hair – a _familiar_ face – golden eyes glistening with menace, the glow of another lightsaber. He heard himself shout. _“I loved you!”_

Anakin’s face twisted in agony and Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open.

He lay motionless for a while, trying to get his bearings. He’d kicked his blanket to the floor, but the short-sleeved shirt he slept in was drenched in sweat. The day-old cut on his back smarted. He grimaced; the wound must have opened while he was thrashing.

His racing pulse was slowing down. He took deep, grounding breaths, listening to the soft hum of the starship’s engines. Everything was dark except for the blue glow seeping through the door and the faint starlight filtering through the tinted glass of his windows.

Obi-Wan rubbed the sweat off his face. He pressed his hands to his mouth, as if to suppress the sickening fear he felt. He didn’t dream, not usually. His sleep was deep, unperturbed by the thoughts that worried his waking hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare, either. Yet, this one had felt more like a vision of the future than just his imagination running rampant.

A vision of a _possible_ future, he corrected himself.

Still, his stomach coiled.

Images and sensations from the dream still flickered in his mind. He wanted to make sense of it, but he couldn’t focus on anything in particular, other than a dark, sticky sense of dread.

Anakin was the one with the nightmares. When he used to be his Padawan, he would come to his room when the night terrors struck, and Obi-Wan would do his best to dispel his fears. He considered going to Anakin in turn, but dismissed the idea as soon as it crossed his mind.

Their relationship had been precarious recently, even without him appearing at Anakin’s door in the middle of the night. What would he tell him, anyway? “I had a dream you had turned to the Dark Side”? He would rather spare them both this conversation.

Anakin’s eyes from his dream seemed so real in his mind. Bloodshot and narrowed with pure hatred, they pierced deep into his being. Just the thought of Anakin ever looking at him like that made Obi-Wan’s heart clench.

He heaved a sigh. It seemed he would not get his much-needed sleep that night. He pulled off his drenched shirt and discarded it. He slid out of bed and sat down on the floor, facing the wide windows looking out into the vast infinity of space.

He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. The cut on his back stung at the contact with the cool air, but Obi-Wan paid no mind. His breathing slowed as he slipped into the empty, quiet state of near non-existence that meditation offered. The Force poured into him. He was full to the brim with light and energy, a vessel and not a person.

It was as close as he could get to peace.

The starship’s rhythmic noises washed over him as he sat there, unmoving and barely breathing.

***

That is how Anakin found him several hours later.

Obi-Wan heard the quiet sigh of the opening door and tensed. He slipped out of his near trance, suddenly aware of the discomfort of his numb legs and the pulsating pain of cut on his back.

Then he recognised Anakin’s footsteps and his body relaxed. He opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the light.

“Master?” There was a smile in Anakin’s voice, but then he inhaled sharply. “Master, what happened? You’re _bleeding_.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, but the sound hitched in his throat when Anakin touched his shoulder. He bent down and Obi-Wan tilted his head to look at him. Anakin was clad in his general’s uniform, hair combed back, the smell of toothpaste and soap wafting from him.

His forehead creased in worry as his fingers explored Obi-Wan’s injury. He shook his head. “The cut’s opened again.”

“I am fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as he uncrossed his legs. Anakin’s hand dropped from his back. He scrambled to his feet, but his sore muscles objected. A groan slipped from his lips.

Anakin’s hands gripped his upper arms. It helped steady his body, but had the opposite effect on his mind. Alarm bells went off in his head as his nerve endings tingled with the sensation of Anakin’s warm, calloused palms on his bare skin.

He was standing now, but before he could pull away, Anakin was steering him towards the bed. “Let me help you,” he said, a steely edge to his tone.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but the only thing that came out was a defeated sigh. “All right,” he acquiesced and sat down.

 “I need to put a fresh bandage on it, this one is soaked through.” Anakin said just as his hands carefully peeled said bandage off Obi-Wan’s back. “What were you up to tonight, anyway?”

Obi-Wan scowled. “I had a bad dream.”

Anakin’s hands paused on his back and when they resumed, their touch was slower, gentler. “I didn’t know you had them too. What was it about?”

_You,_ Obi-Wan thought. The nightmare that had lurked just beyond the threshold of his awareness slithered back into his mind, as threatening in daylight as it had been during the night. Still, he kept his voice and expression impassive. “I don’t remember. I couldn’t fall back asleep, though, so I decided to meditate.”

“Of course you did,” there was the small smile again, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile in turn. Anakin was thoughtful for a moment. “You should have come to me.”

Obi-Wan tensed at the unexpected remark, but Anakin continued. “I know what it’s like, and talking about it helps. You’ve taught me that.”

“We all need as much rest as we can get,” Obi-Wan countered. “I didn’t want to take away yours.”

“Yeah, but you need your rest too. What would our army do without its second-best General?”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “It is true. I have yet to surpass Master Yoda.”

Anakin laughed and swatted him on the shoulder.

He shuffled behind Obi-Wan’s back, reaching for the medical kit near his bed. While he was preparing the bacta patches, Obi-Wan asked, “So, why did you come and check on me? What galactic crisis demands our immediate attention?”

“Funny you should ask.” He pushed Obi-Wan’s head down and brushed his hair away to expose the cut on his back. If his hand took a moment too long to comb through his hair, Obi-Wan didn’t mind. “Chancellor Palpatine wants us to check out a planet in a nearby system. Nikehbo. The Separatists have gained the support of their opposition party and it seems like they are about to try and seize control of the government.”

“Which we don’t want to happen.”

He knew Anakin was nodding even without seeing him. “Nikehbo’s people have been offering haven and medical care to refugees from Republic-allied systems. There are medical facilities there we cannot afford to lose.”

_We can hardly afford losing anything more in this war,_ Obi-Wan thought with a frown.

Anakin’s words reflected his thoughts. “Everything is a matter of life and death these days.”

“Sadly, true.” Obi-Wan hissed when Anakin applied antiseptic to the cut. _And I can’t even stay focused on the damn war._ Even now, every single one of Anakin’s touches was vying for his attention.

Anakin blew on it to reduce the burning, and the hairs on Obi-Wan’s neck stood on end.

“Anyway, Palpatine believes that the situation can still be resolved peacefully,” Anakin said. “Apparently there is going to be a big government vote soon, and if enough neutrals can be swayed, the opposition won’t have enough support.”

“So, a diplomatic mission, then?”

“Supposedly. Given our track record, it will probably be a bit of both.”

Relaxing cold spread over Obi-Wan’s back. He could feel the injured matter – a result of a blaster shot that he hadn’t managed to deflect – calm under the soothing salve.

“Palpatine wants you to speak in front of the Nikehbian government, try to persuade the ones who’re on the fence. The situation is very fragile, however, so they will only let you in. The rest of us would have to wait outside.”

“I see.” This plan made Obi-Wan’s insides clench. Entering a situation full of unknown variables by himself with minimal time to prepare… It could go south fast. Still, if Nikehbians had been so keen on helping refugees, they couldn’t be _that_ hard to reason with, right? He cleared his throat. “How long until we reach Nikehbo?”

“We are ready to enter orbit as soon as you give the word. I figured you’d need some time to prepare. Write a speech or something.”

“That is very considerate of you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan turned his head to smirk at his Padawan. “However, I don’t need to write a speech.”

Anakin grinned at him, hand ruffling Obi-Wan’s hair. Then he caught himself. With rosy cheeks, he looked away and let his hand fall to his side. “I will leave you to it. Try not to tear your skin even worse while I’m gone, okay?”

Obi-Wan had frozen, the phantom feel of Anakin’s hand in his hair making his brain short-circuit. When the other man moved away, he snapped out of it and turned to look at him. “Thank you, Anakin. Can you have one of the protocol droids send me what we have on Nikehbian culture?”

“Already did. Check your datapad.”

Obi-Wan arched his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Anakin gave him that goofy grin, the one reserved for when he did something which delighted his Master. Then his smile faltered and his gaze clouded. He shifted where he was standing at the door, looking away from Obi-Wan as the tension in the room rose. Obi-Wan once again became aware of his state of undress and felt heat rise to his face.

Anakin cleared his throat, murmured a hasty _later,_ and rushed out.

Obi-Wan stared at the door that closed behind Anakin’s back. He pressed his hands to his face, muffling a groan. He tried to pull himself together, to ignore the tightening of his chest, the odd mix of hope and fear that arose in him every time Anakin’s eyes lingered on him the way they did.

_Enough._

He was a Jedi, a General, and every second spent on something other than his mission did a great disservice to everyone whose lives depended on him.

He reached for his datapad and started reading.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @everyone who read, commented and left kudos on part 1: Thank you so much! <3 It's great sharing this story with you guys.

Obi-Wan had several unread messages. The information about Nikehbo stood on top of the list, but he flicked through the list, anxious to see if he had missed anything important. The world didn’t seem to have ended without him noticing, but there was a message from one of his contacts back on Coruscant. They were an old acquaintance of his who kept him updated on the latest gossip in the Senate.

While gossip was against Obi-Wan’s Jedi upbringing, it had proven to be a powerful weapon when it came to negotiations. Knowing which parties were on good or bad terms, or who had an affair with whom could spell the difference between success and failure. Avoiding the unnecessary shedding of blood was reason enough to consult the grapevine from time to time. 

This piece of news, however, was… troubling. And not only because it had to do with Anakin. As if he needed to think about Anakin even more.

The message on hand related to his Padawan indirectly, through a certain Senator Amidala. Rumour had it she was involved with a Twi’lek diplomat. They had been spotted sharing a romantic lunch not on one, but on three separate occasions, and Obi-Wan’s contact heavily implied it likely went beyond just eating together.

Obi-Wan did not know what to make of it, really. Anakin may think him blind, but he had been aware of his Padawan’s relationship with the Senator since its very start. Anakin thought he hid it well, but Obi-Wan probably knew him better than Anakin knew himself. His awkward tension when they were assigned to protect her from an assassin all that time ago, the air of contented ease that followed their time together, how the Force around him had felt slightly brighter in the months that followed…

He had known Anakin was in a relationship with Senator Amidala. He was less willing to admit he had been… jealous of it.

At any rate, things had changed with the start of the Clone War. Everything that distracted from the war effort had had to be put on hold. Anakin’s vibrant energy was channeled into his officer duties, into late-night strategic meetings with Obi-Wan and the clones, into patching up the latest set of wounds and scars that adorned their bodies like medals of honour. In their life as it was now, they only had room for the people closest to them, to the point where Obi-Wan could not remember what his life had been like when he hadn’t shared everything with Anakin.

And he realised he couldn’t remember when the other man had last mentioned Padme Amidala.

Obi-Wan shook his head, dismissing that train of thought as irrelevant. Instead, he opened the file about Nikehbo.

He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the small table, and began reading.

***

Nikehbo was one of those planets that reminded Obi-Wan how vast and extraordinary the galaxy was. It was a small planet orbited by two tiny moons and covered by a single huge ocean. Due to its chemical composition, the ocean was a rich purple-red, fading to startling orange where it was shallower. There were no continents, but rather groups of small islands like breadcrumbs on the smooth red silk of the ocean. For lack of solid ground, Nikehbian architecture had developed vertically, in tall, narrow structures. The more populated groups of islands had grown together into a labyrinth of skyscrapers and a cobweb of bridges.

The people of Nikehbo were a peaceful race, adapted to living in a dense population. They were vaguely humanoid, but about the size of a 12-year old kid. They had two legs with big membranous feet and four arms, one pair with opposable thumbs and one with membranous fingers they could use for swimming. Being amphibious, they could survive underwater for longer periods of time, even though they preferred life on the surface. They reproduced asexually, but lived in close-knit “family” groups.

They were also skilled sailors and possessed an admirable fleet. Since they had joined the Galactic Republic, the ships had been adapted to accommodate refugees.

Obi-Wan read with interest about their society and government. He concluded the Nikehbians had been in contact with other species long enough to conform to the relatively homogenous communication norms in the Galactic Republic and the Outer Rim. They were also fluent in Basic. Unless he did something blatantly rude, he would probably avoid getting shot at.

Not having Anakin with him further reduced that risk.

When he was relatively certain he had retained the most important information, he turned off his datapad and headed for the bridge.

Anakin was leaning on the backrest of the co-pilot seat, discussing something with the two pilots. He trailed off, looking over his shoulder as soon as he heard the door slide open.

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Finally finished? I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep.”

Obi-Wan made a show of rolling his eyes slowly. “When was the last time you read an entire planet overview in less than two hours?” He paused and smirked at the glare Anakin sent him. “Oh _right,_ you never read the overviews.”

Anakin pushed off the seat and stepped closer to him. “Who needs to read the overviews when you can think on your feet.”

Obi-Wan reduced the distance between them further. “Anakin, ‘thinking on your feet’ once almost got us cooked in a giant cauldron as religious sacrifice.”

Anakin’s brows shot up in indignation. “I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t—you once held a monarch at gunpoint to _prove a point.”_

“Which I wouldn’t have had to do if you hadn’t gotten yourself kidnapped.”

“Do I have to remind you—“

An awkward cough interrupted him. “Generals, we have a visual on Nikehbo.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan halted their verbal sparring. They were standing only about two feet apart, in relaxed stances with open feet, as if they were about to engage in physical combat. Yet, there was laughter crackling in Anakin’s eyes, and Obi-Wan knew it mirrored his. They were constantly trying to one-up each other, but there was no malice behind it, only good-natured playfulness.

Obi-Wan stepped back and cleared his throat. Once again, Anakin’s presence had exhibited its unfortunate tendency to distract him from the matters at hand.

“Shall I prepare my speeder, then?”

Anakin nodded. “We will not touch down, but we will wait in orbit.  We should be able to arrive in time if you need us.”

“ _Should_ be?” Obi-Wan arched a brow.

Anakin winked at him. “Like to keep you guessing.”

 _You sure do, don’t you._ Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Well, no need to delay, then. If anything goes sideways, I’ll expect you to be able to pull me out in… 7 minutes?”

“Five.” Anakin said, his jaw set.

“Don’t feel obliged to crash your speeder for my sake, Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled at him. “Although I know you’d use any excuse to do that.”

“Very funny,” the other man replied in a tone that suggested he didn’t find it funny at all.

“General Kenobi,” one of the clones started hesitantly, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Indeed. I will be off. Don’t forget the code-word.”

Anakin laughed dryly. He wouldn’t forget it, as he had come up with it. Obi-Wan doubted anyone else would suggest “restroom” for a code word. But, as he had so eloquently put it, _when stuff turns to shit, you need a restroom_.

Obi-Wan still wasn’t sure how he’d agreed to this.

He span on his heel and marched towards the inside of the starship, where his speeder was waiting. A knot of barbed wire tightened in his stomach, but he forced himself to relax. He was going to Nikehbo in a diplomatic capacity, and from what he’d read, he would have a good chance of swaying their council. It was just the stress and lack of sleep getting to him, he reasoned.

Still, a part of him kept insisting something was off about the mission.


	3. Part Three

The landing ground Obi-Wan was directed to was at the end of a narrow bridge. He touched down gracefully, turned off the engine and instructed his astromech to remain at his fighter. Then, he climbed out.

A petite humanoid with reddish skin and big, golden eyes wobbled toward him. The Nikehbian – in Basic, the genderless species referred to themselves with the pronoun _xe_ \- stopped in front of him and performed a complex gesture with one of xyr pairs of hands. “Welcome to Anykh, Master Jedi. My name is Berr.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “Thank you for having me.”

Berr clasped xyr hands together. The myriad of colourful glass bangles decorating xyr arms chimed as they hit against each other. The Nikehbian wore a plain off-white tunic, but compensated with rich glass jewellery. Obi-Wan recalled that sand was one of the most widely available resources on the planet. Its inhabitants had learned how to make the most out of it. Items made of Nikehbian glass had a passionate following throughout the galaxy and made up a significant part of the planet’s export.

They also caught the light of the setting sun in a very pleasing way, Obi-Wan observed.

Berr headed down the bridge away from Obi-Wan’s ship and the man followed. He wanted to ask the Nikehbian, but xe seemed to have wrapped xemself in impermeable silence. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force. He ran into a solid wall that blocked off the Nikehbian’s psyche from him. He sighed and resigned to blindly trusting his companion.

Because that always worked out wonderfully.

On its other end, the bridge flowed into an open space that led up to the entrance of a tall glass building. The translucent walls reflected the red sunset and Obi-Wan had to shield his eyes from the brightness.

Another two guards awaited them at the entrance. When Berr and Obi-Wan reached them, they greeted them with the same gesture Berr had used earlier. Obi-Wan nodded but didn’t hazard breaking the silence. He didn’t want to cause an interplanetary conflict because he was feeling awkward.

Berr looked at him and – to his relief – spoke. “Our leadership convenes in this building. I will take you up to them.” Xe paused for a moment and Obi-Wan sensed a wave of unease in the energy surrounding xem. Then the shields went up again. “We will have to ask you to leave your weapon here, however. You will be able to pick it up when you are leaving.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t keep his brows from shooting up. “You want me to leave my lightsaber?”

“We apologise for the trouble.” To Obi-Wan’s ears, Berr’s voice was flat and without a hint of apology. He doubted he would be able to tell. “Our buildings are very fragile, Master. The lightest hit at the wrong angle could potentially tear the whole construction apart.”

There was a metaphor hidden there, and Obi-Wan decided he wouldn’t object. He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and handed it over to one of the guards. After a moment’s hesitation, they opened the door. Obi-Wan followed Berr inside.

***

Their steps echoed through a spacious glass foyer. Something pressed at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind: cold, dark tendrils of worry. He had a bad feeling about this situation. He contemplated contacting Anakin, but when he discreetly activated his comlink, he realised he had no reception. Hi scowl deepened.

The Nikehbian remained impassive at his side, not uttering a word until xe pointed at a glass-walled elevator at the far side of the room.

“This elevator leads up to the Debate Hall,” xe explained. “This is where you need to go.” They reached the elevator and Berr pressed a button to summon it. A low hissing, sucking noise indicated it was on its way. “This is where we part, unfortunately.” Berr tilted xyr head up to look at Obi-Wan. “I do not have clearance for the higher levels of the _Ytehn-Tar_. Still, you are expected.”

 _By whom?_ Obi-Wan asked himself, worry morphing into a sense of foreboding. “What is the protocol?” he asked instead, “Am I supposed to make my appeal right away, or will I be part of a discussion?”

Berr took a step back, and for the first time since he’d landed, Obi-Wan saw an expression of some emotion in xyr body language. _Fear._ Berr’s eyes met his and for a moment, xyr shields dropped. Regret washed over Obi-Wan, and almost mind-numbing panic. He realised no vote would be made today, he wouldn’t have to appeal to anyone.

He was walking into a trap.

Berr pulled up xyr shields again, and Obi-Wan stared at him numbly.

“You will be given instructions upstairs,” Berr explained in xyr even voice, as if nothing had happened.

Yet, when xeurged him into the elevator, he felt something cold and solid being slipped into his hand. His fingers wrapped around the handle of a blaster, and gratitude swelled in his heart.

He nodded at Berr and stepped into the glass confines of the elevator. He still had time to barge out, knock Berr out and make for his speeder. His chances were good, he reckoned. The Nikehbians outnumbered him, but he had little doubt he could easily get past them. Yet, from what little of Berr’s thoughts he’d glimpsed, they weren’t doing this willingly. Someone was threatening them, and they were _terrified_. He could not run away when who knew how many lives could hang in the balance.

No, now that he knew there was a trap set for him, he did the logical, tactically sound thing: he walked straight into it.

Well, at least he had a blaster.

The elevator reached the designated floor and announced its arrival with a loud _ping._ The doors opened into an empty hallway, which ended with a door. Obi-Wan looked around, extending his senses to explore his surroundings. He could not sense any traps in the hallway before him, and the thick door prevented him from glimpsing what was on the other side. He would have to, as Anakin’d put it, _think on his feet._

 _Anakin._ He tapped his comlink again, but to no avail. Yet, the reception seemed to get better as he walked down the hallway. He slid the blaster into his pocket, rolled his shoulders, and headed for the door.

It opened just as he was raising a fist to knock.

“Master Kenobi,” a voice came from within as Obi-Wan was crossing the threshold, “how good of you to join us.”

Obi-Wan knew that voice. He also knew the buzzing of battle droids as they trained their blasters on him.

The door shut behind him and Obi-Wan heaved a sigh. “Fancy seeing you here, Grievous.”

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up. And we prepared such a nice party in your honour.” The Kaleesh stepped towards him, preparing his lightsabers.

Just then, a quiet _ping_ in his ear indicated his comlink had connected. There was hope for him yet.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin. “I am quite touched. I don’t suppose I could use the restroom before we start?”

Grievous let out a bark of mocking laughter, which was overcome by coughing. “Kill him!” he ordered the droids.

In the moment that followed, Obi-Wan’s Jedi instincts took over.

He fell into the state of hyper-awareness that felt like second nature to him. He dodged the first round of blasts, springing into the cover the nearest table offered. With a sweep of the Force, four droids were sent flying and crashed into a wall. Obi-Wan pulled out his blaster and shot blindly over the cover. Frantic metallic screeches told him the burst had hit home.

Grievous’s dark presence stormed towards him. Obi-Wan flung the table forward, using the Force to accelerate it. It hit Grievous and sent him staggering backwards. One of his stolen lightsabers flew out of his hand. As it spun in the air, Obi-Wan reached for it with the Force and pulled. A blue lightsaber, lighter and longer than his own, landed in his hand.

A menacing smirk spread on his lips. He stood up in a fighting stance, ready for the next wave of blast shots. The balance of the fight had shifted in his favour.

Deflecting bursts of blasts and using his own blaster when he could, Obi-Wan made his way backwards towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

Grievous, backed by an ever-dwindling number of battle-drones, followed.

“You’re dead meat, Kenobi,” he growled. “You’re all by yourself and you don’t. Stand. A chance!” he punctuated each word with a swing of his two lightsabers. Obi-Wan dove sideways and felt the weapons hiss just above his head. His cells hummed with adrenaline and he dodged and parried, but Grievous was gaining momentum.

Obi-Wan found himself with his back against the glass wall, a couple of feet from the door he had been aiming for. He jumped towards it, prying it open just before another volley of fire could tear him to pieces.

He burst through the door and a gust of fierce wind greeted him. He staggered sideways, knocked off-balance for a moment. A moment was long enough. A blaster shot singed his thigh, making him groan and double up. A second shot pierced his shoulder. Pain filled his being to the brim, overloaded his nerves and made explosions of red and white go off before his eyes.

He stumbled backwards, standing straighter as he exhaled, letting his connection to the Force wash away the momentary anguish of his body. He anchored himself to the handle of the lightsaber and looked up.

He was standing on a spacious terrace, which undoubtedly offered a stunning view. He had no time to appreciate it, however, because Grievous had followed him out. Obi-Wan backed into the centre of the terrace.

“You are so _gullible,_ Kenobi,” Grievous roared, stalking towards him. “A mention of _peaceful negotiations,_ ” he spat the words out, ”and you come running to an unknown world, alone, unprepared, and unarmed. You’re making this too easy.”

Obi-Wan swung the lightsaber in a wide arc at his side. His wounds stung, but he plastered a smirk to his face. “At least you were so kind as to solve the last problem for me. Not such a wise strategic decision, either.”

Grievous growled and lunged forward. They exchanged blows, Obi-Wan able to do little else than defend himself against the Kaleesh’s onslaught. “You cannot joke your way out of this, _General._ We’ve got you right where we want you.”

And Obi-Wan realised he was standing on the edge of the terrace.

***

He peered over the railing, at the ground miles beneath him, and he let out a string of curses.

He looked at Grievous, felt the General’s triumph emanate from him. Obi-Wan could not get out of this, and they both knew it.

In the tense second of silence that followed, Obi-Wan heard the sound of a fighter engine. A vibrant energy, crackling with fear and anger, crashed against his own, and Obi-Wan opened his bond, his own fear and relief meeting his Padawan’s halfway.

Anakin had come.

Obi-Wan dove away, covering his head as the fighter blew past him, grazing the terrace and skidding towards the wall, spinning out of control. The groan of the glass under the metal weight almost drowned out a shriek and a _crash_ as the fighter blew into Grievous.

A last screech of metal colliding with glass, the hiss of the pilot booth opening, and Anakin was running towards him, a flurry of black leather and golden hair. “Master!”

Obi-Wan propped himself up. “Anakin, what did I tell you about crashing your fighter?”

“I got here in four minutes and thirty seconds,” Anakin countered. Panic robbed his words of their usual smugness. “ _Why_ didn’t you give the signal sooner?”

“I was confident I could deal with the matter myself,” Obi-Wan smirked, but quickly deflated under Anakin’s glare. “I wasn’t certain until I boarded the elevator, and then the comlink connection dropped out.”

Anakin shook his head, but kneeled at his side. Obi-Wan reached towards him, gripping his forearm, and Anakin helped him to his feet. “Are you injured?” he inquired.

As if on cue, his wounds reminded him of their existence. Tongues of white-hot pain licked through his body and coloured his bond with Anakin in anguished red.

Anakin’s face darkened and he cursed. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Wet, laboured coughing interrupted him. “Not so fast.” Grievous stepped out from behind the crashed fighter, hobbling but alive. His reptilian eyes glowed maliciously. He had discarded his lightsabers, but there was a blaster in his hand. “Game over, Kenobi.”

Anakin moved to step in front of Obi-Wan, but he was too slow. The blaster fired. Obi-Wan jerked sideways, but the shot caught him in the shoulder. He lost balance, the impact and the pain exploding in his upper body throwing him backwards. The shot had paralysed his arms. He tried to hold on to Anakin, but he slipped out of his grip. He felt the railing dig into his thighs, too low to keep him from sinking farther backwards…

He lost his footing and fell. “Anakin, he gasped, and then the wind screaming in his ears stole his voice away. He passed out.


	4. Part Four

He was in the red place again, aching, struggling for breath. It was familiar, but something was… off? The scene flickered in and out of his consciousness, replaced by something brighter, warm, but not scalding… Anakin was there, golden-eyed rage in one moment, clear blue eyes staring at him serenely in the next. Obi-Wan tried to make sense of the shifting images, but his own self was slipping through his fingers. He wondered if he was dying, clinging as hard as he could to Anakin’s image as if it would tie him to life or at least, stay with him for whatever followed.

The vertigo of contrasting, nonsensical images slowed down and started fading. He heard his own voice. _“I love you,”_ it said this time, and it wasn’t a shout, just a simple statement that reverberated through his whole being.

Obi-Wan sighed soundlessly and let darkness claim him.

***

He woke up to warm light caressing his eyelids and strong fingers brushing through his hair. He was lying on his back, body heavy, sunk deeply into a soft mattress. His head was hazy, but he felt good. He felt _alive._

He stirred a bit and the fingers instantly withdrew. Mumbling in displeasure, Obi-Wan willed his eyes to open. He was greeted by bright sunlight, and Anakin’s face, framed by a halo of messy hair, came into focus.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled tiredly.

He was sitting on a chair next to Obi-Wan’s bed, his hands now clutched in his lap as he leaned forward. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a gentle, quiet voice.

“Sore, but otherwise fine.” He swallowed with difficulty, his mouth and throat dry. “Pretty well for someone whose last memory is of falling off a skyscraper. I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

Anakin laughed and eyes crinkled in relief. “Of course. That’s 23 to 21, Master. You’re falling behind.”

“I’m sure you will give me plenty of opportunities to catch up,” Obi-Wan smirked. On some level, it was probably wrong to keep a tally of how many times you’ve narrowly avoided death, but there were only so many ways to keep oneself amused in the midst of a galaxy-spanning war. “Is everyone all right?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes. Rex and the others were not far behind. They engaged the remaining drones, but our dear General made a run for it.” Anakin was frowning at this, but then his expression brightened. “The Nikehbians are fine, too. Their leaders had been taken hostage to make the guards cooperate, but we lucked out. With their commander leaving them behind, the droids didn’t know what to do. We destroyed them before they could harm anyone.”

Obi-Wan let out a relieved sigh. Then his brows furrowed. “Wait, was there an actual danger they might align themselves with the Separatists?”

Anakin shook his head. “Not as far as I can tell. And after Grievous’s stunt, it’s even more unlikely.”

“Huh.” This had serious implications for their own chain of command, but Obi-Wan felt too warm and heavy to dwell on _that_ just then. Instead, he asked another question. “What about you? Did you Force-pull me back up?”

The other man cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. He refused to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, instead training his on the bedcovers. “Sort of.”

It wasn’t a big leap for Obi-Wan to piece together what had happened. “Anakin,” he said, reverting to his stern Master tone. “ _Please_ don’t tell me you jumped after me.”

Anakin’s eyes shot to his for a split second and Obi-Wan groaned. “What?!” exclaimed the younger man. “Do you think Grievous would have let me pull you to safety just _so?_ I’m good, but even I can’t fight him while I _float_ you in mid-air.”

“We could have both died!”

“But we didn’t!” Anakin sprang to his feet, as quick to anger as usual. “I Force-pulled you on the way down and slowed our fall. You’re _welcome_ , by the way. We landed in a _heap_ of _sand_.” He ran his hand through his hair, as if still feeling the grains of sand there. “Besides…” he trailed off, suddenly looking unsure.

“’Besides’ what?” Obi-Wan demanded.

Complete silence filled the room. It lingered for a few moments, heavy with unsaid truths, and then Anakin took a deep breath.

“I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if I hadn’t managed to save you,” he admitted in a quiet voice, words raw with honesty.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan sighed, reaching towards him through the Force, their bond flaring with feelings he didn’t know how else to express. Anakin froze where he stood by the window, with crossed arms and guarded eyes.

Neither of them could bring himself to break the silence, and Obi-Wan was the first to look away. He still didn’t feel quite like himself, and he didn’t know how to handle such conversations even at his best.

He found his mind drifting to something else, something he _could_ bring up. Something that would be easier to talk about in his painkiller-addled state.

“Anakin, I need to tell you something.”

The other man’s brows shot up, but he resumed his position by Obi-Wan’s bed. “What is it?”

“There is a rumour that Senator A—Padmé is having an affair.”

Anakin stared at him, confusion etched in his features. “What are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan, celebrated across the galaxy as the Negotiator, found himself completely unable to lead this conversation in a satisfactory manner. “I _know,_ Anakin,” he heard himself saying. “I’ve known from the start, from our assignment as Padmé’s guards. I know you too well not to notice, and, frankly, you used to wear your heart on your sleeve, and Force knows Senator Amidala is a _spectacular_ woman, but… I had to tell you. I know it must hurt, but the war has been keeping you apart for so long, she is probably—“

Anakin placed his hand on Obi-Wan’s, effectively silencing him. “You are babbling, _Master.”_   He gave him a mischievous smile, but then his expression grew more serious. “Padmé and I aren’t together anymore. It… wasn’t working out. We spent much more time apart than we did together, and, well, my childhood infatuation wasn’t exactly the best foundation for a good relationship.”

Obi-Wan clicked his tongue. “So, let me get this straight. Your decision had nothing to do with the Jedi Code.”

Anakin chuckled. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan repeated dryly. Still, he couldn’t hide his smile. This conversation was unfolding better than he’d expected.

“But yeah,” Anakin continued. His fingers were absently drawing shapes on Obi-Wan’s hand, making it hard to focus on the younger man’s words. “Padmé is a dear friend, and I’d be happy if she has someone on her side in Coruscant. Force knows this war is impossible to survive alone.”

Obi-Wan tensed at this, and his eyes locked with Anakin’s. Again, the air between them became thick with tension, but neither would address it. They were on the brink of something, something Obi-Wan had tried his best not to acknowledge, but his resistance was wearing off. There were only so many fronts a man could fight on at the same time, after all. Force knew, Obi-Wan didn’t want to fight this one any longer.

He turned his hand in Anakin’s and entwined their fingers. The touch sent a wave of warmth through his body. Anakin’s eyes widened, but he squeezed tighter.

Something shifted in the universe, like a complex construction falling into place. The Force hummed, surrounding the two men in warmth and light that enforced their bond. For a blissful moment, everything was brighter, more vibrant.

Then, the world faded back to normal. Obi-Wan looked from their interlocked fingers to Anakin’s face, and he knew he saw a reflection of his own smile.

This time, it was Anakin who looked away first. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I can’t believe you asked Grievous if you could use the restroom.”

Obi-Wan chuckled too, and in a matter of seconds, both of them were cracking up. Tears streamed down Obi-Wan’s face, all his injuries throbbing uncomfortably, but he couldn’t care less. His exhaustion and the painkillers, but also Anakin’s presence and his hand in his, they almost made him giddy. He gladly succumbed to the feeling.

Eventually, though, his laughter dissolved into coughing. He frowned. His throat felt like he had eaten sand. Which wasn’t all that unlikely, all things considered.

Anakin noticed his discomfort and his own laughter died down. His cheeks were rosy and he smiled warmly at him. “Let me go get you some water.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan smiled back.

Yet, neither seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand. Anakin raised them and pressed a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s knuckles. He gave him a playful look underneath heavy eyelashes, but he was blushing.

Obi-Wan felt his own face heat up, but he stroked Anakin’s cheekbone with the back of his hand, thumb brushing over the other man’s lips. His touch lingered as his gaze traveled to Anakin’s smile. The younger man licked his lips and Obi-Wan felt his blush spread all the way up to his ears.

His stomach tightening in anticipation, he slid his hand behind Anakin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was soft and chaste, but it also felt like _home_ and like _oh Force, finally._ Anakin leaned into him, running his free hand over Obi-Wan’s chest. As they shuffled to adjust to each other’s forms, Anakin’s hand grazed his shoulder. Obi-Wan groaned in pain.

Anakin broke the kiss immediately. “I am so sorry,” he gasped, and it was such a devastated sound that Obi-Wan chuckled again.

“I’m fine, Anakin.” _More than fine,_ hummed the Force around him. “I’d appreciate that water now, though.”

“Oh yes!” Anakin stood up, but not before pressing another kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead.

As Anakin headed for the door, Obi-Wan called after him. “Don’t take too long.”

Anakin looked over his shoulder and winked at him, lingering at the doorframe. “As if I would.”

***

Somewhere across the galaxy’s vast expanse, Chancellor Palpatine sent an expensive statuette of an exotic animal crashing into the floor. Rage boiled in his body, so intense and all-consuming that he had to center himself just so he wouldn’t level the entire building to the ground.

His plan had backfired spectacularly. He had felt the shift in the Force and he had little doubt as to what it meant. His goal had been simple: remove Kenobi from the equation. Grievous had sworn he could do the job. Alone, the Jedi Master shouldn’t have been a match for the General. _Or_ for the four squads of battle droids he had had accompany him.

Except, the confrontation had unfolded in the worst manner possible. Skywalker had saved Kenobi, and it had proven to be the last push their relationship needed to turn into _exactly_ what Palpatine had tried so desperately to avoid. Under Kenobi’s pure, _good_ influence, Skywalker would be as good as immune to the temptations of the Dark Side.

Palpatine let out a livid shriek. His plans had been foiled every step of the way. First with Senator Amidala, who had proven wiser than he had given her credit for. And now Kenobi… The exemplary Jedi, and yet he had placed his feelings before the Code. Palpatine had underestimated his feelings for the boy, and now he would no longer be able to exploit Anakin’s loneliness. This was a most unfavourable turn of events.

No matter. His countenance twisted into a malicious grimace. He would have to win this war the old-fashioned way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, thank you to everyone who stuck around for this, for all the kudos and comments and the general warm positive feelings I've been having all week. Hope you had those too! I look forward to posting more here and I hope I'll be seeing you around. In the mean time, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr at [obae-one-kenobae](http://www.obae-one-kenobae.tumblr.com) (my fandom blog, mostly SW but also other stuff, or [veniae](http://www.veniae.tumblr.com) (that's my main one). Come gush about fictional nerds with me :D
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading! <3


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